


Arbeit Macht Frei

by Diglossia



Category: Panik, Tokio Hotel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-22
Updated: 2010-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-06 13:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diglossia/pseuds/Diglossia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arbeit macht Frei: Work will set you free. Three famous words that greeted those the Nazis sent to Auschwitz. Three words that could not have been a bigger lie. Tomas Kaulitz is a talented young violinist reduced to playing in empty concert halls for Nazi officers. The war has stayed relatively far away until now, when the horrors of the Nazi era take him and his friends away from a ruined Magdeburg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tomas looked up, frowning just a bit. His head felt awful.

Georg, his best friend and fellow violinist, looked at him curiously.

"What is it?" he asked, laying his instrument and finely-rosined bow in his lap, "Tomas, are you feeling quite right?"

Tomas shook his head, confusion written across his fine features.

"I can't say that I know what is the matter. I should be getting home. A good practice, today was."

He stood up and put his violin in its velvet-lined case.

Georg nodded.

"Yes, a good practice. Say hello to Wilhelm for me, won't you?"

Tomas smiled as he left Georg's small apartment. He took the stairs down and walked out of the old building. The streets of Magdeburg were rapidly darkening and Tomas knew he needed to hurry to return home before the police began their nightly watches. It was not safe to be out at night anymore.

Two years had passed since the Allied Western forces had declared war on Germany. Too many men had been drafted to fight on the Western front against the enemy French and British soldiers. Tomas counted himself lucky to still be a free man. His skill at music had kept him and his fellows home. They performed for officers and their wives in concert halls, entertaining those unfortunate enough to be stuck in such a burned-out city as Magdeburg.

Air raid after air raid had torn the city apart. Georg and his family had been forced to pick themselves up after an Allied bomb exploded atop their former building, destroying it and several buildings in the vicinity. Magdeburg was a city in ruins. Ashes and rubble lay in place of homes and shops. Empty concrete frames dotted the landscape, interspersed with steeples and church walls.

So it was that Tomas counted himself lucky to be employed and alive. The city he had grown up in was reduced to nothing; yet, he was still here and successful. He was whole. He and his friends were paid little for their performances but they received double ration cards in secret, a mercy that kept Tomas and his family afloat.

Tomas walked through the streets. He passed the occasional bored soldier or broken homeless woman. Tomas kept his gaze forwards and his pace swift so that he appeared single-minded in heading home. He should have left earlier, he reminded himself. There was still daylight. There was just barely time enough. Still, he breathed a sigh of sweet relief when his building came into view.

He opened the door to the stairs and checked the mail. Empty. Tomas thanked God for that. There was no letter from the government tonight asking for Tomas or Wilhelm to serve the Vaterland. They had another night of peace.

The front room was empty when he came in. No one was there to ask where he had been all day. Tomas turned the knob on the door to the room he and Wilhelm shared. He set his instrument on the floor and took his shirt off.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he heard his brother ask.

Tomas shrugged on a clean sweater before turning to look at Wilhelm. He bit his cheek to avoid saying anything, knowing all too well what would tumble out if he did not control himself.

Tomas always wondered why Wilhelm was so careless about his appearance. If he tried, it would be easy enough for Wilhelm to look normal. Waist length black hair and heavy eye make-up, painted nails and tight-fitting clothes, nothing like a good Hitler-jugend, a Hitler Youth, would look. Tomas knew Wilhelm was about to slip out into the night to meet the men at the underground club he frequented, men who had tastes that found Wilhelm's odd looks entrancing. Tomas was scared that one day Wilhelm would let some man take him home and the man would turn out to be a Gestapo spy or a party supporter who would turn him over to the secret police. Wilhelm was risking everything for pleasure and a few marks in his pockets.

"Please, Bill," Tomas said, using his twin's childhood name, "Stay in tonight. There are police already patrolling. Stay with me tonight."

Wilhelm smiled and played with a strand of his long hair.

"I'll be home before daybreak," he said, kissing Tomas' cheek as he bounded out of the room.

"Don't stay up for me," Wilhelm called as the front door shut behind him.

Tomas sat down on the bed they shared in that tiny room and choked back a sob. He could only hope that Wilhelm would make it home alright.

ØØØ

Gustav stared at the telegraph slip in front of him in disbelief. He sucked in a much needed breath and read the message again:

Herr Gustav Schäfer,

You have been selected to join the esteemed service of Company 63 Magdeburg. Please report to Station 25A, Westfall Str. at 1000 on the morrow…

Military service? Gustav rubbed his eyes, wondering what time it was. Outside, it was night dark, the streetlamps a dim glow far below. He tried to memorize the way the moon lit the broken rooftops and the shapes of the rubble. Three years ago the view had been completely different. Dread filled him as the certainty that tonight would be the last time he saw the sight settled into his stomach.

Of the men drafted in his neighborhood, none had returned that Gustav knew of. Herr Kerner's wife had received a telegraph telling of his death. That had been two months ago. Was that how it would be for him? Gustav wondered, looking out into the darkness. Would he leave tomorrow and never make it home?

Gustav moved to pack his things. He stopped soon after and lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

How long did he have to live?

ØØØ

Georg screamed and threw the empty case- the largest thing at hand- at the wall. It made a resounding crack when it hit that made him feel just a bit better.

He had been preparing for this opportunity for months. The chance to play before members of the Berliner Philharmoniker, the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, ruined for a one night performance for a couple of SS officers.

"This is shit!" he screamed at the thin walls, "I worked so hard for this?! Fuck the officers, fuck the party, fuck the fucking Vaterland!"

He screamed again and again until he heard a soft knock on his door.

Georg, seething, glared at his mother as she walked in.

"Georg," she said urgently, "Stop yelling! One of the neighbors might hear you!"

"It's not fair," he hissed.

"You can't say things like that, Georg. We will be reported for talking against the party. This is serious. What you are saying is treason. Please quiet down. I know you don't mean what you are saying. This is anger talking."

Georg swallowed his retort and nodded mutely. His mother smiled and hugged him lightly.

"Oh, think of it, Georg," she said happily, "You will be playing for important officers! It will be so wonderful. Your father and I are sure the party will promote him if you play well enough, and you will play well enough, you will, Georg."

Georg gave his mother a small smile. She did not understand. She loved the National Socialists, she loved the party, she loved the flag, she even loved the Führer with his Charlie Chaplin mustache and dark good looks.

His mother looked at his hair and frowned.

"We need to do something about your hair, my son. It will never do to let the officers see it so long."

She dragged Georg into the kitchen and pushed him into a chair.

"Hmm, just a cut or a shave?" she asked, a pair of scissors in her hands.

"Hmm," she said again as she lifted the back of his hair.

Georg heard the metallic _shing_ as the scissors cut through his carefully looked after hair. He watched as long chocolate colored pieces fell about his shoulders and littered the floor. His mother hummed happily as she cut. Georg winced as more and more locks came off.

"It is finished," she said, "I'll clean this up, dear. Go find your best suit. I should iron that for you-"

Gustav ignored her happy babble. He went to his room and pulled the dull brown suit out of his closet and laid it on the bed.

He entered the bathroom and closed his eyes, not quite ready to face his newly shorn head. He opened his eyes and looked at the miserable face that reflected back.

His hair was gone. His chance at an audition was gone. His dreams and self stolen away for the enjoyment of a few officers.

Georg leaned against the peeling wallpaper and let the tears fall.


	2. Gute Nacht, mein Herz

Wilhelm smiled as he stepped off the small stage. The audience clapped and whistled around their cigars and cigarettes as Wilhelm made his way to a seat in the back of the club. He made certain that every man in the place noticed the way his hips rolled from side to side.

A roaming hand brushed against Wilhelm's back. He smacked it away playfully, shooting the guest a sensual smile. Wilhelm did not mind the man touching him: if he was lucky, the man would find him later and offer to buy him a drink. They would talk in silky metaphors and allusions until they settled on a price and a location. Then the man would leave Wilhelm be until his hour came and they would leave together, maybe to a back alley, maybe to a nearby apartment. If the guest was rich enough, Wilhelm might get a chance to ride in an automobile all the way to the bedroom.

Wilhelm settled into a seat at a well-positioned table where he could see and be seen. He took the cigarette a waiter handed him and lit it with a match. He blew the match out and set it on the table. Wilhelm looked up as he took a drag from the cigarette. He grimaced. The singer on stage now was his biggest rival. Her stage name was Astrid. She was not nearly as pretty as Wilhelm but she had a voice that could shatter the ice around the most conservative man's heart. It was soft, sweet, and incredibly feminine in a way Wilhelm could not match.

He made an impolite gesture at her and heard a man chuckle.

Startled, Wilhelm could only watch as a blonde man took the chair next to him.

"You know, she's nowhere near as good as you are," the man said.

Wilhelm arched an eyebrow and tapped his cigarette against the ashtray, stalling.

"Johannes von Brandenburg," the man said, offering Wilhelm a hand in greeting.

Wilhelm took it, smiling serenely.

"And you are?" Johannes asked.

Wilhelm shrugged.

"You either know or you don't," he said.

The man chuckled.

"Point taken, Fräulein Minna," Johannes said, smiling with an easy confidence, "You are extraordinarily beautiful, really, quite the exception. The crème de la crème, if you will."

He reached out a finger and stroked Wilhelm's cheek, his rough knuckles a sharp contrast to Wilhelm's baby-soft skin.

"I have a proposition to make, my darling Minna. How would you like to leave Magdeburg?"

ØØØ

"And he said that there are dance halls in Hamburg and Berlin where I could play every night and earn a hundred Marks for every song! This is so unbelievable, Tomas!" Wilhelm shouted excitedly as he stripped out of his performance dress.

Tomas frowned.

"Wilhelm, I don't think this is a good idea. You alone in a big city, it's not safe."

"But I won't be alone," Wilhelm said as he moved from behind the changing screen, "Johannes will be with me and his friends and there will be all the customers and you will be with me, too, of course."

"Wait, what? I never said I was going with you. You didn't even ask me!" Tomas said, giving Wilhelm a perturbed look.

Wilhelm pouted.

"What else would you do, Tomas? I'm your twin. You wouldn't stay here without me, would you?" he asked, his pretty eyes wide with emotion, "We've always done everything together, why stop now?"

"Wilhelm, I have my own life here. I can't just leave to move to Hamburg or Berlin. How will I make any money?" Tomas pointed out.

Wilhelm laughed and clapped Tomas on the shoulder.

"You'll play with me, stupid," Wilhelm said, amused, "I'll sing and you'll play your violin. Can't you imagine it? The two of us making music together. It will be the most extraordinary thing those Hamburgers have ever heard!"

"Wil_helm_…" Tomas grumbled as he watched his brother dance around the room.

Wilhelm flashed him a brilliant smile.

"It's going to be perfect, Tomas, I just know it," he said happily.

ØØØ

The first thing Gustav learned to hate about the military was the phrase, "Ja wohl!"

It was the affirmative response to every question and order, the words shouted out while marching and saluting. They were drilled five hours a day, three in the morning and two in the evening. The rest of the time was spent learning commands and proper etiquette.

Most of their time was spent at chores or in the barracks. Beds were to be made to specifications and floors cleaned, walls built, and uniforms laundered. The work was mind-numbing and exhausting, leaving the new 'recruits' with little to think about other than sleep.

The orders came through that the unit would be shipped out the following week. They were headed north, to fight on the eastern border. Where exactly that border was now was not known. Gustav hoped it would be not too far north. Winter was coming and it was icy enough at home. Kiel would be hellishly cold and Warsaw would be misery itself.

"Schäfer!"

Gustav blinked and willed his thoughts away.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sergeant Heidler snapped.

"Nothing, sir."

"Get a move on!" Sergeant Heidler shouted, "We don't have all day! Get to the showers sofort!"

"Ja wohl," Gustav muttered.

"I can't hear you, Schäfer!" Heidler warned.

"Ja wohl!" Gustav shouted.

"That's a lad. Now, get to the showers!"

Gustav nodded and jogged off to the barracks. He really did not understand why the sergeant had to yell all the time. It made _his_ head ache and Gustav only did it a few times a day. The sergeant yelled all the time.

God did he hate the army.

ØØØ

It was a good thing no one expected violinists to smile while they played or Georg would have been in trouble. As it was, he could barely control his anger at the bored SS officers watching him.

He doubted any of them knew what truly good music was. They had asked him and his fellow performers for marching tunes and lewd ballads set to popular contemporary music. Nothing at all noteworthy or even challenging, the music infuriated Georg.

He could be playing before true musicians and composers. He could be playing Bach and Beethoven to cultured people. Instead, he was here, playing thoughtless jigs to uninterested officers and their antsy child-wives who sat on their hands to avoid springing out of their seats. Ignorant, infantile idiots all of them.

Georg sighed loudly when the officers had finally exhausted their demands for songs. He set his violin in his lap and looked to the other performers. They looked equally unamused to be playing in front of the evening's audience. Tomas was not with them. Georg had not heard from his friend and fellow violinist in three days. Tomas had missed practice the last two days without a note or an explanation. Georg hoped his friend was merely sick and that his absence had nothing to do with Wilhelm.

Georg liked Wilhelm, he honestly did. But there was something about that boy that screamed dangerous in Georg's mind. There was only so far a person could go before his very appearance defied the social order. One day Wilhelm would tread too far and there would be no turning back: he would be gone, stolen in the night by the secret police. Georg only prayed that Tomas would stay away from his younger brother's affairs. It would kill Georg if Tomas were to suddenly disappear.


	3. Hamburg

Tomas and Wilhelm slipped off of the train at the Hauptbahnhof in Hamburg. Tomas carried their suitcases, his violin case strapped to his back.

"Slow down," he hissed to Wilhelm as his younger brother danced ahead of him, "Do you _want_ them to notice us?"

"Who?" Wilhelm asked cluelessly, his lips held together in a tight 'O'.

"Stop that!" Tomas snarled.

He shoved his suitcase into Wilhelm's hands.

"There, keep your hands busy with that," Tomas said, "You're drawing too much attention."

"Am not!" Wilhelm protested.

"Be quiet! The faster we reach the exit, the better."

They picked up their pace and reached the Hamburg streets quickly.

"Where are we going?" Tomas asked.

He grabbed Wilhelm's elbow, stopping the boy from crossing the street. Wilhelm peered up at the signs around them.

"There," he said, pointing several city blocks down, "The club should be five minutes from here walking."

"You didn't get a boarding house?" Tomas asked angrily.

Wilhelm shook his head.

"I'm supposed to meet someone there and he'll give us a place to stay."

"Wilhelm, that doesn't sound safe at all!"

Wilhelm huffed.

"It's all I have, Tomas. Just- come on."

Wilhelm started off down the street, forcing Tomas to follow him at a fast trot. They made their way through the busy streets, passing pedestrian and vehicle alike, Tomas snarling all the way. Wilhelm kept his head high as he looked back and forth. He moved with an easy grace and a proud air, a striking comparison to his growling twin brother.

It took more than five minutes and more than one turn to get to the club. It was a low building surrounded by cement blocks of apartments and dark sidewalks. Little light came from the overcast sky and little sound was to be heard. Tomas scrunched his face up.

"I don't like the way this looks, Wil," he whispered.

The street was oddly quiet and completely devoid of passersby. A cold breeze blew among the high apartment buildings. It blew bits of trash and newspaper about, and stole the warmth from the twin's thin bodies.

"Come on," Wilhelm whispered, not bothering to look before crossing the empty street.

"Wil," Tomas whined as they sidled up to the front door.

Wilhelm ignored him. He rapped on the door hard, the sound surprisingly loud. Tomas winced and leaned towards Wilhelm, ready to grab him and run should something go wrong.

There was no answer at first though Tomas could hear the sound of footsteps and a bolt being pulled back. Tomas sucked in a breath- and felt a hard pull on his wrist before he was slammed against the alleyway wall.

ØØØ

Gustav sat huddled beside his fellow soldiers in the coach. The company shivered as one, a cough coming from one of the men now and again.

It was cold, so icily cold, like only a northern winter could be. The company had left Magdeburg long since, Kiel following soon after on a hellishly long and cold journey. The train stopped every four hours. It was barely enough time to stretch and relieve oneself but it was all they had.

Gustav traced his fingers over the wooden floor. The wood was smooth from many journeys and many passengers but every now and again he would find a rough patch or a splinter. He pulled his pocket knife out and carved his initials into the soft wood. The soldier to his right grinned and carved a grid into the floor. They amused themselves for a time in that manner, perhaps an hour, perhaps three.

The air grew colder with every station the train stopped in. The coats that had been so warm in Magdeburg now felt like a second skin to Gustav. Stripping even one layer off would mean frostbite now.

Gustav sighed and stared up at the ceiling with its open air hatch. He sent a silent prayer heavenwards for protection in the fighting soon to come. It would not be weak French soldiers or British infantry they would be fighting; no, their enemy would be much worse.

They were headed to Russia.

ØØØ

"Nazi piece of shit!" a tall blonde man in a tattered leather coat snapped.

Wilhelm wheezed and slumped against the wall. Tomas yelped and tried to reach for him but was stopped by the man holding his shoulders against the bricks.

"What do you want?" Wilhelm squeaked, his breath short.

Tomas looked at his brother in panic, thinking that Wilhelm was hurt and bleeding, or worse. Another man knelt next to him, murmuring something to Wilhelm. The man holding Tomas grabbed Tomas' chin and forced his head up. He gave Tomas an appraising look. He did not seem to like what he saw.

"How do you know him?" he asked, nodding to Wilhelm.

"He's- my brother," Tomas gasped.

"Liar," the man snarled, "You brought him here. What were you going to do with him?"

"N-nothing," Tomas said, his anxiety quickly turning to trepidation and outright fear.

He turned his head to look at Wilhelm, who looked back up at him with frightened eyes.

"Stop lying!" the man snarled again, shoving Tomas against the wall, "What did you plan to do with him. Are you a supporter? Were you going to turn him in for blood money? What were you going to do?"

"Nothing!" Tomas yelled as he struggled against the powerful man, "I swear, he's my brother. We're twins!"

The man's eyes narrowed at the dubious claim.

"It's true!" Wilhelm yelled, standing up with the other man's gentle help.

He towered over the short blonde man and met the taller one square in the face. Wilhelm put a light hand on the tall man's shoulder and looked at him calmly. Tomas marveled at Wilhelm's control.

"Please, he's my brother, Tomas. We came here because I asked him to come with me. We're a long way from home and were going to stop at the club to meet someone. Please, let him go."

The man studied Wilhelm for a second, and then looked at his partner. The shorter man shrugged and Tomas was let go. He groaned and leaned against the wall. Wilhelm rushed to his side, wrapping Tomas' arm around his own shoulder for support.

"Who told you about this place?" the man asked.

"A friend," Wilhelm said as he checked Tomas for injury, "I'm a singer and I was told this would be a good place to get a break. We traveled by train from Magdeburg this morning. I'm Wilhelm Kaulitz, by the way, and this is Tomas."

Tomas winced and wished Wilhelm would hush. Now was not the time for idle chatter.

"Some friend," the shorter man snorted.

"Jan," he announced, jerking a thumb at the taller man, "He's Christian. Your 'friend' set you up. The club is a trap. People like you hear about this place and they come from all over. You go in, you don't come back out. You said you weren't from around here. Do you have a place to go?"

Christian glared at his companion.

"Enough, Jan," he hissed, "We don't owe these two anything. We need to get going."

"I can go alone," Jan said, giving Christian a perturbed look, "You take them back and we'll figure something out."

"_No_-" Christian began.

His friend ignored him and handed Wilhelm Tomas' violin case. He looked at the tall singer.

"We can give you a place to stay until you can get a train back home. Christian will take you. You'll be safe with him. I need to do something but I will come back."

Wilhelm nodded. Jan smiled and ducked out of the alleyway, disappearing quickly. Christian looked at Tomas uneasily for a moment, then motioned for the twins to follow him.


	4. Der Unterschlupf

They were led down a winding route through back alleyways and up and down staircases, sometimes crossing from roof to slated roof in the dim Hamburg afternoon. Tomas could not tell how long they traveled or how far but he knew that Wilhelm was exhausted and would soon collapse without rest. He opened his mouth to speak to their dour guide. Christian pressed a finger to his lips and glared at Tomas sternly. They continued on.

Tomas became increasingly worried about Christian and the path he was leading them on. Every few minutes Tomas would see a newsstand or a building that looked eerily familiar and he could only surmise that they were going in circles. Perhaps Christian was not a 'friend' at all. Perhaps he was a Gestapo spy and was leading them to their deaths. The cold man's hair was blonde enough and his eyes blue enough, his body strong enough and his height tall enough to be a soldier. Tomas ran his tongue over his teeth to keep from asking where they were going.

Finally, Christian's pace seemed to slow, though his breathing was hardly labored, unlike Wilhelm's and Tomas'. They came to a dark building, the windows boarded up and the door covered in dirt and dust. Christian ignored the door at the front and went to one of the windows blanketed in late afternoon shade. Christian pulled on the window frame. It creaked open with difficulty, revealing a dark cement surrounded hole. Christian lifted a leg up and put his foot down on the ledge, using the motion to swing inside. From inside the building, he looked over his shoulder at the twins, frowned, and then motioned for them to follow him.

Tomas looked at Wilhelm in alarm. Wilhelm shrugged one shoulder wearily. Tomas licked his bottom lip and cupped his hands so that Wilhelm could place his foot there and step up. Wilhelm swung inside gracefully, dropping with a slight plop to the ground. The ground inside was higher and Tomas could see Wilhelm almost to his waist.

"Are you alright?" Tomas whispered, earning a hiss from Christian standing next to Wilhelm.

Wilhelm nodded. Tomas handed Wilhelm his suitcase and the guitar. Tomas looked behind himself uneasily and copied Christian and Wilhelm's move. Once he landed inside, Christian shoved past him and pulled the window shut, the metal frame grating horribly against the cement. Tomas blinked at the sudden darkness, unable to see a thing.

"Sit," Christian commanded as he lit a match against the wall. "Your eyes will adjust faster if you wait it out."

The match flickered for a second, showing the twins a cement room with a thick carpet of dirt and broken glass interspersed with shattered bricks and pieces of newspaper. Christian dropped the match and squashed it out with his shoe.

"Now," he said, his voice eerily disembodied in the blackness. "My friend thinks you two are worth trusting. I do not. He asked me to take you somewhere safe. I have done so. Until he returns, you two will stay here where you can do no harm to me or mine. In the meantime, I will go. I am needed elsewhere. I repeat, I do not trust you. Goodbye."

With a crunch of glass underfoot, Christian padded away, though in what direction Tomas could not tell. He hung his head and sucked in a dust-filled breath.

"What's going to happen to us?" Wilhelm asked, sounding like a frightened child.

Tomas sighed and smacked at one of his thighs to warm it. The room was deathly cold, the ground even more so. They would likely freeze if they spent too long sitting there.

"I don't know, Wil," he said.

"I wish we had stayed in Magdeburg," whispered Wilhelm. "We would be fine if we had stayed in Magdeburg. What's going to happen to us, Tomi?"

Tomas sighed again and pressed his forehead to his knees. This had been Wilhelm's idea but Tomas would not argue with Wilhelm now.

"We wait, Wil. That's what's going to happen."

ØØØ

Gustav shuddered in his icy tent. Three other men were in the tent with him and all were unbearably cold. Their combined body heat had no effect on the cruel Russian weather.

They had been marching for days past burned out villages and empty farms. There were no Russians to fight, only skeletal peasants begging for food and work. Gustav and his fellow soldiers had tried desperately to ignore the women and children with their open maws for mouths and hollow, death-filled eyes. They had yet to see any men.

Whatever orders the officers had been given, they did not relay them to the soldiers. Every morning Gustav would awaken to pack the tent up, eat his measly, mealy rations, and get ready to march again. Every morning they would move farther northeast, closer to the Russian heartland and battle.

_Bam. Bam. Bam._

Gustav shot up at the sound of gunshots and crouched down in his spot. The men- boys, really- around him stirred as well, their eyes large in panic. Gustav smelled gunpowder in the air. He lifted the tent flap to see outside and grab his rifle- and came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

Cruel, black-brown eyes gleamed down at him, set in the face of a pale, grinning Russian soldier. The Russian barked at Gustav. Gustav shook his head

"I don't speak Russian," he said, hoping the man would understand, "No Russian. Ruskie no."

The grinning man shook his head and prodded his bayonet against Gustav's chest, indicating that Gustav stand. Someone whooped a cold, accented laugh behind him. Gustav raised his arms above his head as the man motioned him to and looked past the Russian to see his company in similar positions. A huge mass of Russian soldiers stood around their camp, all heavily armed and grinning maniacly.

Fear flooded Gustav as he realized what had happened: sometime in the night, the Russian army had discovered them. They had been captured.

ØØØ

Georg tried to steady his breathing. Tomas was gone. Georg had looked and looked for his friend but there was no note, no trace of the man anywhere. None of the other violinist's knew where he had gone and Wilhelm was nowhere to be found. Georg wanted desperately to contact the police and send out a search party, a ridiculous idea. In all likelihood, it was the police that had taken them.

He cursed Wilhelm once again, hating the stupid man/woman for putting his friend in such danger. Tomas was a good, hardworking man. He had never done anything wrong, never done anything suspicious and selfish, foolish Wilhelm had gotten them both in trouble.

Georg snarled and slammed a fist into the wall once, twice, many times. With every blow, he muttered Wilhelm's accursed name but still his anger did not fade.

ØØØ

A creak and the sound of Wilhelm's long hair swishing warned Tomas that they would soon have company. He glanced toward where he remembered the window being and realized he was completely wrong when a crack of light came from further down the wall.

There was a scraping against the cement and a small flame appeared. A small face came into sight.

"Oh!" the person at the window said as he climbed over into the room, landing as lightly as a kitten on the floor. "I did not realize you would be waiting here."

The person, who Tomas could only assume was a boy, smiled at them as he closed the window behind him.

"Who are you?" Wilhelm asked.

A soft snort.

"Did you forget me so soon?" the boy asked, lighting another match as the first died. He pulled a candle out of a pocket and held the match to it. The candle lit and the flame filled the tiny room. "My name is Jan. I suppose you two are waiting for me since I do not see Christian anywhere."

Tomas swallowed dryly. They had been waiting so long that neither twin had remembered Jan, only cold, unkind Christian.

"Do you have any water?" Wilhelm asked, standing up and gathering his suitcase and Tomas' guitar. "We're quite thirsty, you see, and we have been waiting such a long time."

"If you two will follow me, we can go somewhere more comfortable," Jan promised, a wide smile turning slightly eerie under the candlelight.

He began to walk across the dirt floor, the candle's light glancing off the walls.

Tomas glanced at Wilhelm to ask a silent question but Wilhelm was already following Jan. Tomas winced and ran to catch up.

They walked down a passageway Tomas had not seen before, walking for a long time, passing closed doors and dusty lamps with no end in sight. Jan led them on for what seemed like hours up staircase after staircase, Tomas' legs aching from their earlier strain as though he had not rested at all.

"This is it," Jan whispered almost too quietly for Tomas to hear. They stopped before a door identical to all the others, the numbers one and nine scratched into the wood. Jan rapped his knuckles against the doorknob, creating a dull ring.

He leaned against the door and whispered a soft word, then leaned back. Nothing happened. Wilhelm looked alarmed.

"Is something wrong?" he hissed to Jan.

Jan grinned again and shook his head, rubbing his lips with his fingertips. After thirty seconds, the door opened. Jan walked inside and the twins followed.

Tomas and Wilhelm jumped when they heard a loud thump and Jan squeak. Tomas whirled in the direction of the sound, throwing his arm out to protect Wilhelm from whatever danger was now before him.

Jan laughed somewhere further inside the apartment and the twins relaxed. Tomas walked farther into the room cautiously, Wilhelm a step behind. Jan had laughed but something had still caught him unaware. Tomas put Wilhelm's suitcase on the floor and walked into what had to be a kitchen. A tall blonde haired man, taller even than Christian, sat at the table, a glass in one hand. He looked at Tomas and Wilhelm with curiosity and motioned that they sit down before he stood up and grabbed two glasses from inside a door less wooden cabinet. The man set them down and filled them from a large glass bottle, setting a glass in front of each of them before sitting back down with a soft grunt.

Wilhelm sniffed the glass as Tomas stared at the blonde man. The man smiled slightly and took a sip from his glass. He had blue eyes and a narrow chin with a splash of freckles across his cheeks. His clothes were dark and splashed with grime, though his fingers and hands were clean. On his right upper arm was a thick wad of bandages, tinged slightly red at the center.

"You can tell your friend it's water," the blonde man said, his smile fading. "I'm not interested in poisoning either of you."

"How can we trust you?" Tomas snapped as he looked longingly at the glass in front of him. His thirst was incredible.

The man raised an eyebrow and took another sip from his glass.

"You would not be here if you did not trust my friends. Christian and Jan led you here and you came. So drink, Tomas, before I take your water away. We have need of that water if you do not want it."

"Who are you?" Tomas demanded, leaving the glass be.

The man blew out a slow breath, looking amused.

"My name is Max and I have no intention of hurting your brother or you. This is my home, where I and my friends live. Does that satisfy you?" Max said, nodding at Tomas' glass. "Now drink before I take my water back."

Tomas looked at Max warily until his thirst took over. He drank, his mind spinning with questions: Where were they? Who were these people that claimed to be friends yet left Tomas and Wilhelm in a freezing cellar for over an hour? What were they doing hiding out in an empty building? What had happened to Max's arm? Where had Jan disappeared to and Christian for that matter? Who were these people?


	5. Ein gewisser Art des Menschen

Tomas leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the table in a steady rhythm as he listened to Wilhelm ramble on. The blonde man, Max, had given them bread and a bit of sausage to go with their water so there was no reason for Wilhelm to not answer his questions about them. Tomas had let Wilhelm talk about himself and his singing but had kept Wilhelm from saying anything revealing about Tomas and his career. If the news were given to the right people- and Tomas still did not believe Max completely trustworthy though they had been sitting at the table for almost an hour now- that Tomas Kaulitz, one of the most well-renowned violinists in Magdeburg, was in Hamburg instead of Magdeburg where he was supposedly confined to bed rest by doctor's orders, things could become difficult for them. Wilhelm would be hardly missed but Tomas…Tomas had defied party orders to be with his brother.

Wilhelm's loud chatter slowed, gaining Tomas' attention. Someone had entered the room. Tomas glanced up from the table and felt a chill pass through him as he looked at the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Long, dark blonde hair wisped around his shoulders. Deep, sad eyes set in a delicate face; the man captured the breath in Tomas' chest and held it captive for several never-ending moments as their eyes met. The man blinked and looked away. Max looked up at the man and frowned.

"Excuse me," Max said. "I need to see to something. David," he said, addressing the man holding onto his chair, "Can you fetch Jan? We need someone to…look after our guests."

David nodded and walked away in a soft, elegant glide. Tomas gaped after him until Wilhelm kicked him. Tomas looked at his twin's confused expression and shook his head to clear his mind.

Max smiled knowingly.

"It seems Jan was correct in his assumptions, then," Max said smoothly. "Our David is rather attractive, isn't he?"

"Excuse me?" Tomas snarled, slamming his chair forward. Wilhelm grabbed his arm and yanked him back into his seat.

"Tomas, stop!" Wilhelm said, glaring at his twin. "Max, sir, I think we might have mistaken each other. What assumption is it that Jan made?"

Max's smile broadened and he leaned forward over the table, steepling his fingers together.

"I am sure that by now you two have realized that this apartment is not exactly a regular home, yes?"

Wilhelm nodded, keeping his hold on Tomas firm.

"That is because it is not. We- Jan, Christian, David, and myself- are in hiding from the police as you two are now. The club you attempted to enter earlier today was a front for a party trap. It attracts singers like you, Wilhelm, dancers, and musicians of…a certain sort, if you will. Now, Wilhelm, can you tell me what that 'sort' might be?"

Tomas bristled under Max's condescending tone of voice but Wilhelm seemed intrigued.

"People like me," Wilhelm said slowly, loosening his grip on Tomas. "Men who like men."

"Exactly. Men who like men. Homosexuals in other words. We are the scourge of the party, one of the biggest threats to the Führer's precious party. He doesn't want us to exist and has made it his mission to seek us out and exterminate us. Three years ago, there were over a hundred homosexuals in Hamburg. Now there are fifteen. We are five of those fifteen."

Wilhelm gasped.

"What happened to the others?" he asked, his eyes wide and fearful.

Max shrugged.

"Most of them are dead-" Wilhelm looked stricken. "Some were sent to the work camps and others have simply disappeared. My friends and I went into hiding within the city. We began with eight and now there are five of us."

"Where are the other three?" Tomas asked, his temper having cooled somewhat.

Max pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.

"They're dead," came a dull voice from behind Max.

Tomas glanced at Jan, who took the seat next to Max who slipped away quickly, his hand pressed over his mouth in pain. Wilhelm watched him go as Tomas turned his eyes to the short man.

"I'm sorry," Wilhelm whispered, putting one long hand over Jan's and squeezing it.

Jan grimaced and pulled his hand away.

"Please, there is no reason to talk about it," he said, scraping his chair back against the floor and standing up. "You need a place to sleep. We can offer you shelter but it will come at a price: you need to promise that you will not leave this apartment without one of us. We cannot have you running through the city at will. It's deadly out there."

The twins looked at each other. Tomas nodded.

"We promise."

Jan smiled and led them out of the kitchen to a dimly lit room at the end of the hallway. A mattress lay on the floor, two blankets and a pillow lying on it.

"It's not much but it's what we have. The sheets are clean at least," Jan offered, looking embarrassed about the sparseness of the room.

"Thank you," Wilhelm said as Tom knelt to inspect the bed.

Jan nodded, wished them goodnight, and left. Wilhelm and Tomas settled in for the night.

Over the next few weeks, that apartment would become their only glimpse of the outside world. Max would don a heavy coat early in the morning and leave the apartment, returning before noon with bread and a newspaper. He never spoke of what he did for the hours between when he left and when he returned but every day the apartment would fill with new cups and towels, more bottles of water and many other things Tomas never saw him bring in.

Later in the day, when the light that came through the curtains over the broken windows was stronger, Christian and Jan would leave, returning just before nightfall. They, too, would give no explanation of where they went or who they saw and Wilhelm would not let Tomas ask.

The mysterious blonde David never left the apartment. He would sit at the kitchen table for hours, slowly plucking a guitar in his hands, sometimes humming softly to himself. He played the sweetest, saddest melodies that Tomas had ever heard for hours on end, replaying the same few chords again and again as though working on a sad ballad. Wilhelm had been intrigued by David's playing and would sit with him, watching him play. David never spoke; just smiled softly when one of the twins tried to talk to him.

That was their day, filled with boredom and waiting and little movement, until the day Max burst into the apartment, screaming at them to pack their things and run: they had been discovered.

ØØØ

Gustav stifled a groan as pain tore through his body once more. The camp the Russians had led them to was in the throes of the coldest winter he had ever experienced. They were given one meal a day and it was poor in quality and quantity. Each passing day Gustav saw his countrymen becoming thinner, their ribs and wrists sticking out to the world with none to care for them.

Dysentery had spread through the camp as well, leaching the soldiers' bodies of what little nutrition they received. Gustav knew that if they did not get medicine soon, he and his men would die of malnutrition. Already he could see feel the ache in his bones when he stood up and the terrible weakness that made his walking unsteady. And, yet, the Russians expected them to work. Every day they awoke in their cramped, diseased barracks to go out for another day of digging trenches and hauling dirt.

Before, Gustav had feared death. Now, he prayed for it.

ØØØ

 

The long Magdeburg days turned to weeks as Georg continued to play his music. He heard nothing of Tomas or Wilhelm and had been the first to console the twins' parents after they had been declared missing, a euphemism for dead. Georg's heart hardened with every moment he spent playing before officers and servicemen. Blaming them for Tomas' death, he came to hate them and by association, Georg came to hate music.

The sight of sheet music became abhorrent; the smell of rosin revolting. The sound of sweet cello cords induced a cold fury within Georg and he would spend nights staring at the walls of his room furiously, imaging the deaths of every musician he knew.

Then, when the fury was gone, the anger quenched by the water of time, Georg fell into depression.


	6. Schwindende Hoffnung

They ran, Tomas grabbing his guitar and forgetting all else, until the apartment building was long gone. Wilhelm tried to look back more than once but Linke shoved him forward every time, hissing at him to move, he knew too much and they would all die if he so much as thought about stopping. Tears built in Wilhelm's fragile eyes but he ran anyway when Tomas took his hand and led him on. They followed Max. He was the strongest runner and he hardly slowed in the many minutes that they ran. Tomas knew not where they were headed. He followed blindly, his only concern Wilhelm's safety and his own. He ignored Linke's cold glares and biting warnings, and was all too glad when Linke fell back to help David and Jan.

David was weak and somewhat delirious, sobbing the name of someone Tomas had never heard off, crying that Timo would be waiting for them, that Timo would not be able to find them, that Timo would get caught because now the police were watching the apartment. Tomas ducked his head when he heard the loud crack that was Linke smacking David. David quieted after that, though Tomas heard his hiccupping and soft whimpering for a great deal longer.

Jan had grabbed the most items among them. Tomas wondered fleetingly why Linke was not yelling at the boy, too, for carrying so much. He glanced back, not to where they had come from, just to see Jan and Linke, and was surprised to find that Linke had taken Jan's pack from him and was carrying it himself.

"Stop," Max said suddenly, holding out an arm that nearly toppled Tomas and Wilhelm over when they ran into it. "They've lost us. We will find someplace here to spend the night."

Tomas nodded wearily. They followed Max through an empty street. The ground was strewn with the rubble of cement buildings and the whole air stank of rotting meat and yeast. They continued walking before Max had them stop. He went to inspect what looked to be an empty shop. The display window was shattered, glass covering the sidewalk all around the store front. Max stepped over it and disappeared inside for a long time. Tomas wanted to sit badly but he did not, knowing Wilhelm was more tired than he and would surely cut himself on a piece of glass. They had little if any antibiotics and a possibly infected cut would be an unnecessary burden.

Max eventually came out, calling to Jan and Linke softly to inspect the shop. Linke glanced at David, glared at Tomas, and then went inside.

They returned moments later, telling the others to come inside. Tomas held Wilhelm's elbow to support him as his brother stepped in daintily, glass crunching underfoot. Max was at the back of the shop, waiting, so they followed him up a back staircase. They ended up in a sort of workroom with mannequins and stacks of brown and blue cloth along the walls. There was a single window boarded up. Wilhelm walked over to it, letting go of Tomas' hand. He touched the wood and tried to peer out.

He turned back to Tomas and shrugged, as if to say, this will do for now. Tomas sucked in a breath. A quiet thump alerted him to the fact that David and Linke had joined him, the thump coming from Jan's pack. Linke had dropped it. David's eyes were red. He sniffed and dried his eyes on his wrists. Linke looked at David in disgust and tossed a swatch of tan brown cloth at him.

"What the fuck did you do, Max?" Linke snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. "We had that apartment for how many months without any suspicion whatsoever and you still managed to lead them straight to us, you fool!"

Max raised an eyebrow at Linke, unconcerned by the man's anger. Linke sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Honestly, how did this happen?" he continued, his tone changing from anger to disappointment.

"Don't know, Chris," Max said. He moved towards Linke and enveloped him in a soft embrace. Linke sighed again and placed his cheek on Max's shoulder.

"We cannot stay here long," Linke whispered.

"Mmm," Max said, brushing Linke's long bangs back. "We will go looking then, tonight or tomorrow morning, after we have rested." Linke looked up at him with an expression far softer than anything Tomas had seen from him yet. Wilhelm sat down on the floor and Tomas copied him. He frowned as he rearranged many of his suspicions about his housemates. He knew what they had told him: that they were in hiding as a result of disagreements with the Party or, rather, persecution by the Party but he had not truly taken their words in. David had seemed an obvious example…of what they were, even Tomas had been attracted to his charms. Jan, if he cleaned up a little, was also a noticeable- here Tomas stopped his thoughts. He knew what he was thinking about, he knew the word for it, too, but he simply could not make himself say the word _homosexual_ for all that he was surrounded by five of them.

A piece of bread was dropped in his lap before Tomas noticed that Jan was kneeling before him. Jan smiled and handed him the glass bottle of water.

"We are going nowhere for a while so we should eat and drink as we can," Jan said softly, his breathing slightly ragged from their earlier exertion. "Linke and Max will probably leave for a while and David is likely to go to sleep. We only ask that if you and Wilhelm want to talk that you keep it quiet."

Tomas took a long swallow of water and handed the bottle to Wilhelm, who took it eagerly.

"Where are they going?" he asked, nodding to where Max still had Linke in his arms. The sight was rather unsettling to Tomas.

"Somewhere else in the shop, maybe down the stairs. Today has been a bit of an upset and they will want to talk."

Tomas laughed. "My guess is that they want to do more than _talk_, the way they are looking at each other."

Jan smiled.

"That is a possibility," he said as he place the cork in the water bottle. Jan went to stand up and Tomas grabbed his pants leg. Jan looked down.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Hey, are you and David a, you know…?"

Jan chuckled.

"That is an odd question, Tomas. It makes me wonder some things about you." Tomas frowned. Jan's smile grew wider. "The answer is no, however. We are only friends."

"Ah."

"Ah?"

"Goodnight, Jan."

Jan walked over to David and put the water down. Tomas could hear him chuckling for several minutes afterwards. He hoped Jan did not mention the question to David.

ØØØ

Gustav clutched his stomach as he dry-heaved onto the ground next to him. He heard the bark of a Russian soldier and could only glance up before he was kicked in the back of the knee. Gustav groaned, wishing there had been something to his heaving so that he could turn around and spew it on the insane soldier kicking him. But there was nothing and so Gustav dropped to the ground where the soldier continued kicking him.

Most of the men he had arrived here with were dead. Those that were not were sick enough to be dead. There was no relief from home, no army battalions coming to save them from their fate as playthings and slaves for their Russian masters. These men spoke only the coarsest German with painful whistles and growls added to the language for no reason other than to torture their prisoners' ears.

The kicking seized eventually and Gustav stood on his hands and knees. He shoved a leg forward shakily, his body numb with hunger and exhaustion, and shoved himself forward. There would be no end to this hell tonight.

ØØØ

Georg scraped his bow across the E-string, creating eerie faerie-like tunes. He paused and put his instrument down to look out the window. Tomas had not returned. Georg could only imagine that his friend had abandoned him to go to Switzerland, Finland, or America even, just to get away from Georg. Somehow, Tomas had learned that Georg had been offered his audition at the Philharmonic and had left him rather than try to continue their friendship after such an offer.

Georg snarled and threw his bow at the wall. He was angry but he had not the courage to ruin his precious violin, not yet.

He pressed his hand to the window, watching as the chilly outside air creating an impression around his hand. Georg pulled his hand back and blew on the window, making a larger sweep of white on the glass. He dragged a nail over the middle of it and wrote this:

Tomas,

Please come home. You're my best friend.

I'm sorry,

Georg

The letters were cramped when Georg finished, the writing hardly readable as the white faded away but the words were as likely to reach Tomas from the glass as from a letter without an address to be sent to. Georg swiped his hand against the last of the white. In that instant, his message and his hope disappeared.


	7. Das Ende

Tomas was shaken awake early the next morning. It was a curious experience to be in a place so full of light. The sun came through the spaces between the boarded up windows and cast long shadows upon the floor, the stacks of clothing appearing as long mountains of blackness in the dusty room.

Jan's blue eyes were oddly bright in the strange light as the short blonde looked at him, whispering that he needed to get up, if only for a minute. Tom groaned softly and stretched before turning to Wilhelm and tickling his side to awaken him. Wilhelm took much longer to sit up than Tomas had and Jan looked strangely distressed by his leisurely movements.

"We are leaving," Jan said once Wilhelm was fully awake and blinking up at him. "All of us. We need to go somewhere but we will return as soon as we are able. Please, stay here and keep silent. We cannot afford to be discovered again."

Wilhelm looked puzzled at his announcement but said nothing. Tomas glanced at Max, who had his uninjured arm around Christian's shoulders. They were dressed in heavy dark brown coats that Tomas did not recognize and looked grimly determined. David stood next to them, also clad in unfamiliar clothes. He looked equally determined and Tomas grew concerned. David had never left the apartment in the time they had stayed there yet now he was leaving to go somewhere Tomas did not know.

"We will go with you," Tomas said. Wilhelm gasped dramatically and gasped at Tomas but his brother was firm in his resolve. He would not let gentle, beautiful David go. He might not return if he did. Tomas would rather accompany them on whatever task they had decided upon than let the waif-like man strain himself.

"That is unnecessary," Christian said curtly. He sucked his cheeks in and glared at Tomas. "You will make it harder for us should you come."

"If Wilhelm and I stay here," Tomas said, glaring back at Christian, "there is the possibility that we will wait for a very long time. We have little food and no water. Should something happen to you, any of you, we would not know. We could spend days here waiting for any news of what had occurred. Wilhelm is too weak to go more than a few days without sustenance."

There was silence as Tomas and Christian held each other's gaze with enmity, both wishing silently that they had never met. They had no liking for one another and nothing in common other than their intense hatred for the other man.

"There is sense in what you say," Max said. Christian's lips thinned into an angry line but he kept quiet. "Come with us then. But, I tell you this: what we are about to do is dangerous. There is a likelihood that we will be harmed."

"We will go," Tomas said. Beside him, Wilhelm nodded. They stood up and gathered their things.

"Leave them," Max said as Tomas grabbed Wilhelm's case. Tomas stared at him.

"Surely, you cannot mean-" he protested. "My violin-"

"Leave it. Your instrument will only be in the way," Max said.

They left the shop, Max and Christian leading the way. Jan and David followed behind them silently. The sun shone down on their bodies as the cold air leeched the warmth from their bones. The streets were empty, filled only with cement rubble and trash.

It was a forlorn sight, made even more so by the lack of words between the members of the group. Tomas walked next to Wilhelm. He did not see where they were going, he did not care where they were headed. His violin was gone, completely and utterly gone. He had left it behind and for what? Another day's food? Protection?

Tomas had given up everything once again. In the last few months, he had lost his home, his livelihood, and his friends to follow Wilhelm on a winding journey from Magdeburg to the streets of Hamburg, keeping only a few clothes and his violin in the process.

"They have stopped," Wilhelm said softly in Tomas' ear. "They want to say something now."

Tomas nodded and looked at the men assembled before him. Christian's eyes, as ever, were cold and hateful. Max looked strained and plainly unhappy, standing awkwardly next to Christian as though he were itching to wrap his arms around Christian and bury his face in the crick of the black-haired man's neck. David looked down at his feet and even Jan seemed troubled.

A building stood behind them surrounded by barbed wire and high wooden fence posts. Signs warning against entry were posted on the outside and guards stood ready by a guarded gate.

"What is this place?" Tomas asked as Wilhelm moved closer to him. "What are we doing here?"

"Timo," David said ever so softly. He lifted his head, his blue eyes meeting Tomas' in a beautiful plea for understanding. Christian frowned and Max took in a deep breath.

"Our friend is here," he said, looking from Wilhelm to Tomas. "At least we think he is. We hope to…visit him and perhaps leave here with him."

"How?" Tomas asked skeptically. "There are guards guarding the gate. Do you have guns to fight them with?"

"There is a wall on the near side of that gate that we can scale. Beyond there, it is easy to get inside. People live there, in a sort of town that is locked away from the rest of the city. It is very small but you will be surprised by how many people live inside."

"You have done this before?" Wilhelm asked. "You are sure this is possible?"

"Yes," Max said. "Many times. Sometimes when one of us would leave the apartment, we would come here to see Timo and…others. There are no 'others' anymore and we are running because we have nowhere to go. There is nowhere safe in Hamburg or any of the other cities nearby. We, Jan, Christian, David, and I, have discussed this. We will take Timo away from here and leave ourselves. This city is too dangerous for us. Most of our friends are dead. You said you wanted to come with us. Do you still want to?"

ØØØ

The wall was part of a broken down building quite far from the gate and was too easy to climb in Tomas' opinion. They were up and over in little time, and walking through the empty streets in minutes. It looked no different from the streets outside the compound. There were no people to be seen or heard. It was eerily empty, not even guards patrolling the streets as Tomas had expected.

They walked for a long time, seeing no one and hearing nothing but the wind among the buildings.

"Where is everyone?" Wilhelm whispered.

"I do not know," Jan told him, his brows knitted in worry. "There should be people everywhere. It is only midday."

Max raised a finger to his lips, indicating silence.

"Guards," he said when Jan frowned at him. They froze but it was too late. They had been heard. Two men dressed in brown uniforms walked towards them, holding large, black rifles at the ready.

"Halt!" one of them yelled out, raising his gun at them. "Who are you?"

Tomas felt Wilhelm's hand tighten around his wrist with incredible strength. He glanced at his brother. Wilhelm was sickly pale, his eyes wide with fear.

"We live here," Max said calmly. "We were just going to visit our friend. He lives on this street, a few houses down. We mean to cause no trouble."

The guards looked at each other.

"We have documentation, if you need to see it," Max continued. He stuck his hand into his right-hand pocket. "Here, let me-"

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!_

The gunshots were so fast that Tomas never saw them. One second, Max was reaching into his pocket, the next he was on the ground and Christian was screaming. Max had the most stunned expression on his face, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Tomas moved to knelt beside him.

"Stop!" the guard snapped, his voice quivering. "Don't move, any of you! Leave him!" he ordered, pointing his gun at Christian. Tomas saw tears coursing down Christian's cheeks but the guard took no notice of them as he told Christian to stand and back away from Max's lifeless, bleeding body.

"This compound was liquidated two days ago," the other guard said, the barrel of his gun pointed at their faces. "You are hereby under arrest for trespassing. We ask again, who are you?"

"Don't answer him," Christian snapped, his arm flinging back to protect Jan and David. He lifted his chin at the guard whose gun was pointed directly at his heart. "We have no documentation so we cannot tell you our names. Anything we tell you would be impossible to confirm. You will have to take us to your commander."

"We do not _have_ to do anything," the guard sneered. "We could kill you right here with no consequences."

"And you would have to dispose of our bodies," Christian countered. "I doubt your commanders would appreciate cleaning up six bodies. For all you know, we are respectable Party members interested in meeting our friend who is a guard here. Imagine the trouble of all the paperwork for killing the sons of a high-ranking official."

"You are related to a Party member?" the other guard asked curiously.

"Yes," Christian said. "But I have no documentation on me, as I said, so you will have to take us to your commander for confirmation."

The guards murmured to each other, seeming to come to a decision quickly.

"Come with us," they said.

They followed the guards. David was shaking and his face was whiter than Wilhelm's while Jan and Christian seemed stoic except for the wetness on their cheeks. Tomas had no words. He had not particularly liked Max but to see him dead had been horrifying. Max had done nothing the rest of them had not done, especially in the eyes of the guards before them. None of them was more innocent than the next. What would become of them? Would they die as Max had, left to bleed out from bullet wounds on the street?

"Here you are," one of the guards, the one who had killed Max, said. He shoved David in the back, making him stumble and fall to the ground. Tomas jerked back only to be pushed by the same guard. He fell into David, who had started to cry and shake uncontrollably. "The 'commander'."

Tomas looked up and met the steely gaze of another man in uniform. He looked no different from the guards who had led them there. He leered down at Tomas and David.

"And who might these boys be?" he asked, chuckling. "Trespassers?"

"They say they are the sons of Party officials, real important people," the guard said. He nudged Wilhelm in the back with his gun and grinned cruelly. "But they have no papers with them. We shot the other one-"Christian flinched. "-a couple of streets back."

"Indeed? No papers?" the commander asked with feigned interest. He smiled coldly, far colder than Christian had ever smiled, and chuckled. "Then I guess we can put his friends to work burying his body before we kill them."

"No!" Wilhelm cried out. "You cannot kill us!"

"Why not?" the commander asked. "If you have something valuable, I am certain we could negotiate something. Do you have gold on you? Anything of worth?"

"N-no," Wilhelm admitted. The guards behind them grinned.

"Get these men some shovels," the commander ordered. "And gather that other body. I want them to dig their own graves."

They were soon outfitted with shovels and led to Max's body. David was shaking so badly that he dropped the heavy shovel several times. Each time the guard laughed and ordered him to pick it up, his guns pointed at David's tear-stained face.

Tomas was so focused on David and his silent tears that he did not notice the queer glint in Christian's eyes or the way he suddenly hefted his shovel. It was not until the guard cried out and collapsed to the ground that he realized what Christian had in mind.

Jan was on the man in seconds, kicking him and yanking the gun from his hands, pulling the strap over his head with difficulty. Guards came racing from by the gate. There were few of them but more than the five men. Jan turned his stolen gun on them and opened fire with imperfect aim. One man fell and others screamed out in pain before the gun jammed and Jan dropped it, ducking out of the way of the others. The guards seemed too stunned to shoot at the men.

Christian was up, using his shovel to hit the guards in the knees and stomachs, making several double over in pain. Tomas grabbed Wilhelm and pulled him out of the way of the swinging shovel, holding Wilhelm into his chest to try and protect him. David fell in beside them and Tomas held him, too, protecting him from the gunfire and chaos.

Tomas stared at Christian and Jan in horror, believing for all that he was worth that he would die then and there when Christian grabbed Jan by the shoulder and yelled an order at him. Jan ignored him and tried to get away but Christian stopped him.

"Jan, go! Take David and the twins with you. Run as far as you can, as fast as you can. The first train station you get to, buy a ticket. Here, take the rest of the money," Christian said, pulling a wad of marks from his breast pocket. He shoved them into Jan's hands, ignoring Jan's pleas.

"Take it, Jan! Fucking go! Get out of here!" Christian ordered, his eyes wild.

"No, no, no, no!" Jan cried, shaking his head and grabbing Christian's sleeve, "You have to come, too. Don't leave me, Christian, please, I can't- no, no, no!"

Jan grabbed Christian and hugged him tightly, his breathing ragged. Christian looked at Jan sadly, hugged him for a moment, and pulled him back, lifting his chin until they were eye to eye.

"It's over for me, Jan. Max is dead. There's nothing for me out there. Now, go!" Christian yelled, shoving Jan away.

Jan bit his lip and took Wilhelm and David by the hands. He nodded to Tomas and they set off running. Tomas looked back once to see Christian pick up his shovel. Christian's face was set in a grim line as he hefted it over his shoulder. He snuck behind the guard who had shot Max and, with a near silent blow, slammed the shovel into the guard's neck. The man crumpled to the ground, Christian glared defiantly at the other guards. Tomas thought for a moment Jan's friend would turn and follow them but he lifted the shovel again and slammed it into the skull of the next guard and the next. Tomas sucked in a disbelieving breath, certain that now Christian would run towards them- and saw Christian arch back and gasp as bullets tore through his back. He fell, the shovel clanging down on the hard street.

Tomas closed his eyes. Jan tugged at his wrist and then Tomas followed, a cold anger seeping through him.

ØØØ

They found their way to the train station and bought the tickets in silent despair. Tomas did not even care where they were going; he simply needed to leave and forget everything that had happened that day.

Tomas stroked the silent boy's hair. Sometime in the night as they rode the train, David had fallen asleep and had listed against him. Wilhelm was also asleep, his head on his lap. Wilhelm seemed so different now, so much quieter and more sensible than he had been in the last year.

Jan stared out the blackened window, his face an unreadable mask.

ØØØ

Tomas Kaulitz returned safely to Magdeburg with his twin brother, Wilhelm. They found Tomas' friend Georg and together the three emigrated from Germany in 1944. They settled in New York City where they sought political asylum under the United States government. Wilhelm would continue to pursue his dreams of becoming a famous singer, Tomas at his side.

Tomas never forgot the sweet faced boy with the sad eyes. For almost twenty years on the anniversary of their escape from Germany, he would remember David and wish that he could see him again. Tomas wrote letters to David that never got sent. He composed songs for the boy and wrote poems but with only a first and a possible last name, he never found David.

David Bonk and Jan Werner went into hiding in northern Germany. For three months, they stayed in abandoned apartments, continuing to sabotage Nazi soldiers to the best of their abilities. On November 16, 1944, unable to keep going with so many friends gone, David Bonk committed suicide. Jan Werner disappeared the next day.

In 1955, Gustav Schäfer returned to Germany, along with the last of several thousand Heimkehrer, German POWs from the Soviet work camps. He and the other interred men were broken in body and mind, many suffering for the rest of their lives from the abuse suffered under Soviet control. Documentation of the men returning from the Soviet Union has, in recent years, been closely related to post traumatic stress disorder and severe depression. The Heimkehrer became a symbol of broken Germany after the end of the Nazizeit. Within the post-WWII German community, the Heimkehrer and their experiences in the Soviet labor camps were associated with the horrors inflicted by the Nazis, in many regards surpassing Germany's horrific guilt over the Holocaust. Broken men, broken women, broken homes, Germany was defeated.


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